


Out Of The Silvergrove

by SunstoneLioness



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Gap Filler, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22141120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunstoneLioness/pseuds/SunstoneLioness
Summary: Part of a day and an entire night passed between Rayla and Callum leaving The Silvergrove and Nyx finding them. What happened?
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 75





	Out Of The Silvergrove

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the TDP Holiday Exchange as a gift for @rememorylssues (Twitter) / @gemini (Tumblr). One of their favorite pairings was, and I quote, "RAYLLUM." I had this gap-filler knocking around in my head anyway. The (extended) event deadline was the push I needed to actually finish it.

The Moonshadow mounts loped through the darkening forest. Rayla and the huge cat led the way, keeping a steady pace. She did not speak. Callum, though concerned, knew her well enough to not prod her...yet. Besides, he was preoccupied. His mount, the leggy, foxlike creature, was easily the most difficult animal he had ever sat on the back of. It would frequently respond to small tug of the reins with a sharp turn, which led to them both winding back and forth while the others pulled ahead; then the beast just _had to_ run to catch up. A few times, it had decided to take what he thought of as a "Rayla Route": bounding between the walls of a gap instead of running along the floor like a sensible animal, or leaping to a nearby one of those branch-or-root things just to vault over the others' heads. Thankfully, all of his failed riding experiences had gifted him with one ability: to cling to his steed like an adoraburr in all sorts of uncomfortable positions. At least Zym seemed to enjoy the trip, but he could _glide_.

After hours of this, his teeth hurt from clenching them, he could feel several bruises forming, and his backside was getting sore. Eventually the night drew in so closely around him, that all he could make out were the pale markings on the mounts, and whatever stray, floating motes of light revealed in passing. _Of course_ he thought sourly. He was the only one here without night vision.

"Rayla..." he finally pleaded. "Rayla, I can barely see anymore. Can we stop?"

The big cat halted. Callum pulled on the reins, and his mount pranced to a stop. He saw Rayla – only her hair, really, as a smudge of blue – turn her head one way, then the other. She chose left, and led them down to the base of a tree, under one of those gigantic branches. He could actually tell, because a cluster of glowing mushrooms crowded there. She dismounted and began checking her creature’s gear, then removing it. Callum slid off his mount’s back. Halfway through, it “helped,” dumping the human into the dirt. Too resigned to this behavior to be deeply annoyed, he picked himself up, brushed off his pants, and began to copy Rayla’s movements. Zym hopped down and began to explore the area.

“Leave her bridle on,” Rayla said – tired and a touch exasperated, but not at him. “She’s stayin’ here.”

Callum blinked. “What?”

Rayla heaved the saddle and blanket off her mount’s back, then began pulling her fingers through the big cat’s mussed fur, fluffing and smoothing it. She explained: “I don’t know when they last ate, so I’m gonna let Sabri here roam a bit.” The massive creature leaned into the scritches, rumbling happily. A tiny smile brightened her features then, despite all the sorrow weighing her down, and Callum’s heart soared at the sight. For a few seconds, he forgot what she had said. Then it clicked together.

“Wait. Won’t, uh, Sabri just go home, then?” he asked stupidly. Clearly he didn’t understand something.

“Not if I tell him to come back before sunrise.” She was doing that thing again, the “these are my mysterious elfy ways” thing. But the she sounded almost cheerful, and he loved to hear it. So he watched, interested, as the Moonshadow elf took the feline’s head in her hands, and met the creature’s eyes. She whistled softly, a complicated series of notes and trills, then removed the bridle. The huge cat shook his head, huffed, and sidled up against her. Then, Sabri slipped off into the darkness – far too easily, Callum thought, for a creature that seemed to faintly glow.

“…Besides,” Rayla added conversationally, voice deliberately light, “he’s more likely to return if Senga’s here.”

Senga, huh? Callum looked askance at Senga, looming over him. Senga eyed him disdainfully. Then the beast nudged him sharply with her snout. He sputtered.

“I _think_ she wants you to take off her gear,” Rayla hazarded. Callum froze like a rabbit. Rayla’s brows quirked, then she let out a quiet sigh, resigned. “It’s okay, I’ll do it. E—…” Her throat closed off abruptly. She swallowed hard, then continued: “Ethari’s knots can be really complicated, anyway.” Too quickly, she stepped over and crowded him out, hiding her face by leaning close to Senga’s saddle in the half-light, and fiddling with the fastenings on the girth strap. In response, Senga gently snuffled the elf’s hair. Rayla cringed and shoved the leggy creature’s face away.

They settled into their evening routine. Callum pulled from his pack a few half-ripe fruits and some wilted fungi Rayla had foraged for over the last few days. They chewed through the cold, unsatisfying food without comment. Rayla rolled a few pieces of fruit over to Senga, now tied to a small tree by the bridle. After careful examination, the beast decided they were acceptable fare. Zym got some, too. Even though they hadn’t eaten much today – Callum really had been looking forward to that moonberry surprise – and the ground was, well, cold…at least it was _dry_ , and they were safe…

Or, they seemed safe…

“Rayla?” he queried, struggling to keep his tone both casual and considerate. Wrapped in a saddle blanket and already dozing sitting up a short distance away, she squinted at him. Callum reflexively apologized. “Sorry. It’s just…” He glanced down at Zym and petted the sleepy dragonling on his lap, dropping his voice to a near-whisper. “…Should we worry about guard patrols from Silvergrove? Could they even see us?” He dreaded asking her, to prod such fresh emotional wounds, but he had to know.

Predictably, painfully, Rayla’s lavender eyes flared. She slammed her hand down and lunged towards him, fingers raking the earth. “Callum,” she snarled, but her voice shook, “ _they don’t care about me anymore._ ” As she moved, Ethari’s amulet swung forward, clinking delicately.

Zym yipped, confused. Senga rumbled uncertainly. But Callum’s gaze fell to the pendant, glimmering in the faint phosphorescence. It hung from Rayla’s neck, in defiance of her words and her people’s harsh judgment: a token of love and remorse.

She noticed a second after he did. Rayla snatched up the pendant in her fist and turned away again. “Just…go to sleep,” she told him, burrowing in her blanket.

Callum swallowed hard, fighting back his own sympathetic tears. “O-okay,” he acquiesced. He bundled himself in his own cloak and laid down, settling Zym against his stomach. After a moment, he added, “I’ll be here if you need me.”

A rustle of leaves was the only reply.

* * *

If Rayla could just curl more tightly around her aching heart, then maybe it would burst, and she could disappear.

Zym needed her. Callum needed her too, sheltered idiot prince that he was, or he’d starve. _The whole world_ needed her, to convey them all to the Dragon Queen safely. She knew that. But to succeed at her mission (not her first mission, the one she’d _failed_ and now _everyone was dead_ ) she needed to be functional. She needed _sleep_.

…Why wouldn’t she sleep?

* * *

Callum laid there in the near-total darkness, reflecting. Snippets of memories played out behind his eyes. In the solitude of his mind, he could flip through the scenes like a book, re-reading key passages, or pausing to examine a reaction in full, as needed. He spent a long time that way: pondering, remembering, drawing parallels to others in his life, until sleep claimed him.

* * *

In the early morning, Callum awoke. Wet, crunching noises filled his ears. Puzzled, he sat up, rubbed his face, and opened his eyes…

…To Senga munching on the half-eaten carcass of an oversized bird. At the sight of viscera, his stomach heaved, and he pressed a hand against his mouth to keep from vomiting. Senga looked up from her meal. She watched warily as Callum scuttled past; then, satisfied that he wouldn’t disturb her further, she licked her lips and resumed eating, her tail curling and swishing in what he assumed was pleasure. Nearby, Sabri groomed himself, like any housecat. Callum relocated to where Rayla crouched in front of a tiny fire, using a stick to poke three little fish that sizzled fitfully on skewers over the embers. Zym watched the proceedings with interest. Callum interrupted her musings by clearing his throat, then remarking, with warm amazement: “Wow. Nice work, Rayla.”

“It’s nothin’,” the Moonshadow girl mumbled, not looking up. “Couldn’t sleep anyway.”

After a moment, Callum managed to access his internal Deep Well of Optimism. “Looks a lot tastier than Senga’s breakfast,” he quipped.

Rayla’s exhale hovered between a sigh and a chuckle, and she smiled wanly. She briefly lifted the open blade at her feet. “Y’missed the gross part,” she said. Setting her weapon back down, she tilted her head to meet his gaze sidelong. If she hadn’t been so visibly exhausted, Callum thought, she would have looked playful, instead of mildly creepy. Rayla continued slyly: “…An’ mist owl guts are _pretty amazin’_ if you’re a moonstrider. Or a shadowpaw.”

“So that’s what they’re called.” Hauling his sketchbook onto his lap and unsheathing his pencil with a flourish, he flipped to a clean page – but his hand stopped before touching the paper. “Wait, which one’s which?”

Pleased by his enthusiasm, Rayla pointed. “Sabri’s the shadowpaw.” She dropped her arm, continuing, “Senga’s the moonstrider.” Then she smiled. “I won’t make you look again.”

Callum squeezed his eyes shut, grimacing and grinning at once. “Too late!”

Since he was awake now, he volunteered to keep an eye on the food, to free up Rayla for tasks only she knew how to do. While breakfast cooked, and cooled, Callum spent a pleasant half hour or so sketching Sabri and Senga, and Rayla saddling them up. Outwardly, she seemed…a little better than yesterday. She’d pause at odd moments while working, though. When that happened, Callum deliberately looked away. He busied himself with activities like: checking the doused fire, making sure Zym was properly chewing the fish scraps, or sticking his nose in his journal and _scribbling intensely_.

After they finished eating and cleaning up, they couldn’t put it off anymore: it was time to ride. Resolute, Callum strode over to his mount. “All right, Senga,” he told her sternly, pointing at them both. “You and me, round two.”

The moonstrider responded to this invasion of her personal space by jerking her head back in surprise, then nipping at his (rapidly retreating) fingers. Her teeth clicked together on air. Rayla chose this moment to chime in.

“Careful,” she warned lightly, picking up the reins. “That was just a warnin’. She could’ve bit your finger half off. I’ve seen it happen.”

Callum stared at her. “You’re telling me this now?!” he exclaimed, aghast.

“Don’t worry. I’ll ride her from here on,” Rayla assured him. She petted the moonstrider’s neck ruff, adding, “You did a good job hangin’ on yesterday, though.” She smiled fondly as she swung up on the saddle.

“Th-thanks,” Callum stammered, trying not to blush. “I’ll just…re-introduce myself to Sabri, then.”

He extended a hand – slowly – to the shadowpaw. The big feline sniffed it politely with a nose the size of his hand, then turned aside to allow the human to climb on. Meanwhile, Zym flapped over and alighted behind Rayla.

“Ready?” she asked. As secure as he could be, Callum nodded. “Good. Let’s go.”

* * *

Meters above, a pair of Moonshadow scouts looked up from the scene below them and met each other’s tired gazes. One, a young man, made a brief, inquiring gesture and raised his eyebrows. His cohort, a veteran with extensive markings, shook her head fractionally. She signed back to him, finishing with a motion that clearly indicated, _follow_. He nodded, stretched briefly, and leapt to the next thick branch as easily and quietly as a glimmer-squirrel. As for her, she spent a minute or two carefully working the last stiffness out of her muscles and joints. Sitting in a tree all night did _not_ become easier as the years passed, she thought ruefully. But the news they would take home would be worth any physical discomfort.

A human boy, the banished assassin novice, a dragonling, _and_ two Moonshadow mounts, cooperating amicably. There was an intriguing story here: one she wanted to gather as many pieces of as possible, before returning home.

After taking another breath to center herself, the veteran scout sprang forward.

* * *

They started at an easy walking pace today. Once Callum got used to the way the shadowpaw’s back moved under the saddle, he _almost_ actually enjoyed the ride. Zym glided between and around them, occasionally chirping happily.

As for Rayla, she guided the moonstrider as subtly as she knew how. Before this morning, she had only been on Senga’s back a few times, and never unsupervised. At that thought, memories pushed up behind her eyes, against her will:

_– Looking down at Runaan’s head as he adjusted a stirrup to make it longer, because she had grown. –_

_– “You must be aware of your every movement while on the back of a moonstrider,” he lectured, as she and Senga circled him on the practice green, again and again. The assassin’s sharp gaze never left rider and mount. He continued, “Until you are familiar with each other, if you do not match her rhythm perfectly, she_ will _interpret the smallest unexpected contact as a command. Like so.” Senga’s arc wobbled, and Rayla tugged the beast back onto the path. “Your knee tapped her side. But you recovered well. Continue." –_

_– “You did nothin’ wrong,” Ethari assured her, wiping dirt and half-dried blood off the scrapes on her upper back with a warm, damp cloth. “Moonstriders are difficult creatures, is all. They’ll bond to their favorite elf, and that’s that, no more companions for them.” Rayla heard the wry smile in his voice when he added: “A lot like Runaan, really. But,” the craftsman continued, “he cares about you more than he lets on. I promise.”_

_An audible step at the doorway announced the presence of the just-mentioned elf. Runaan stared at them both, an inscrutable expression on his face, before pivoting and continuing up the stairs. His long hair flicked behind him in some kind of parting statement. Rayla squirmed. For some reason, she felt guilty._

_Ethari responded coolly to his husband, in a voice strong enough to carry down the hall: “And I shouldn’t have to tell her that.” —_

In the present, Senga snorted a warning. Rayla snapped back to reality, and wiped her leaking eyes with the heel of her hand. The moonstrider kept glancing upward, and pranced nervously.

“What is it?” Callum asked her, worried – probably for more than one reason, curse her traitorous face.

Steadying Senga, she scanned the forest canopy, squinting at the sunlight filtering through the leaves. The Moonshadow heard more than saw a flock of small colorful birds and another glimmer-squirrel foraging above. A short distance away, a woodpecker drummed on an old snag. No indications of anything larger. Rayla scoffed. “Nothin’,” she answered sourly. “Senga’s just jumpy, I guess.” She turned the moonstrider around so they could continue on…but the beast simply travelled in another arc, then yipped and reared onto her hind legs. Rayla kept her seat, but her temper snapped.

“She’s probably _upset_ because _I’m not her rider_.” Rayla’s voice radiated scorn; Callum couldn’t figure out why. She kept going, only half to moonstrider, “…But she’d better get used to me, because _he’s not comin’ back!”_ This last tore from her throat as almost a shriek. Tears fell from her eyes again. She _hated_ this, being so _weak_ ….

At that moment, all the pieces clicked together in Callum’s mind. A tall, high-strung, willful creature would have matched the tall, pointy, hostile, and now-deceased assassin leader perfectly. His heart squeezed. “Rayla, it’s okay,” he soothed. “I can ride Senga again. I survived yesterday.” He tried to smile. It came out lopsided. Zym hovered between them, looking back and forth and trilling in concern.

Gradually, Rayla got her breathing under control, as well as the moonstrider. Without warning, she vaulted backwards off Senga and twisted to land to one side of the feathery tail. Callum blinked. Senga’s tail twitched. Relieved that she listened to him, he dismounted like a normal person and led Sabri over. They traded reins.

“Just…don’t die,” Rayla ordered.

Again, Callum nodded.

* * *

Up in the canopy, the senior Moonshadow scout laid flat against a branch, so she would be unseen by anyone searching below. Once the children had moved on, she sat up, slowly. Her protégé studied her from the next tree: concerned, but also disapproving. She glared at him.

 _Now, we return_ she signaled. They set out.

* * *

The Moonshadow mounts continued to travel along the forest floor. Rayla, on the shadowpaw, led the way. She did not speak. Callum, on the other hand, yelped occasionally as the moonstrider took unexpected, unpleasant turns. When they approached an absurdly large root in their path, Sabri simply hopped over the lowest section without prompting; meanwhile, the moonstrider weaved back and forth under her human rider’s inept handling. Of course the beast chose to squeeze herself under an arch barely higher than her shoulders. Awkwardly, Callum leaned back as far as he could go…He cleared the obstacle, but lost his balance, and nearly fell off. Only his feet caught in the stirrups saved him from smacking his head on the ground.

“I’m fine, I’m fine! This is fine!” he called to Rayla, as he pulled himself back into the saddle.

She didn’t even turn around.

Callum encouraged his mount to catch up with her – which the moonstrider did, abruptly. He offered his friend a goofy smile to show he was okay. But it faded when he saw her expression: distant, despondent, lost. By this point, he knew her well enough to foresee that he would be poking a hornet’s nest if he bothered her, but she so obviously needed to let out some of her emotions. He could help.

“So, um, yesterday must have been a hard day for you,” he prompted cautiously.

**Author's Note:**

> 1.) I assumed that the ghosting spell only hides people within the boundaries of The Silvergrove.  
> 2.) If I remember right, the show didn’t mention the shadowpaw’s gender, so I picked one. I also named both creatures. According to BehindTheName.Com: Sabri (Arabic origin, masculine) = “Patient.” Senga (Scottish origin, feminine) = “Sometimes explained as an anagram of Agnes, but more likely derived from Gaelic _seang_ 'slender.' "


End file.
